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glad to have you. I m available to my officers for any reason, around the clock.
Thank you, Sir.
Would you send Mister what did you say, Schneider ? in please?
Yes, Sir.
182 / W. E. B. Griffin
Lieutenant Colonel Dawkins was initially very favorably impressed with First
Lieutenant David F. Schneider, USMC. He was a well-set-up young man; he looked
remarkably crisp for someone who had just flown from the States to Hawaii. And
he wore an Annapolis ring. Colonel Dawkins had been commissioned from Anna-
polis.
There were very few officers in the pre-war Navy who were not Annapolis
graduates.
There was a theory& it was soon to be tested in the crucible of war& that the real
value of Annapolis graduates to the country did not derive from their experience
manning the ships of the peacetime Navy, but from the fact that they would now
serve as the firm skeleton for the flesh and musculature of the enormous Navy that
would be required to win the war.
Some of this would come from the presumed professionalism and Naval expertise
that could be expected of a man who had spent his life, from the age of seventeen
or eighteen, in Naval uniform. The rest would come because the Annapolis
graduates from ensigns, to first lieutenants, USMC, to admirals would serve as
role models for an officer corps that would be seventy or eighty percent civilian
Marines and sailors. Dawkins privately thought that this was the more important
of the two.
Even if they had difficulty admitting this in person to a graduate of Hudson
High, virtually all Annapolis graduates both admired and tried hard to adhere to
the code West Point put in words, Duty, Honor, Country.
And so Dawkins felt at first that Galloway was fortunate to have someone like
Schneider in his squadron. He even imagined, somewhat wryly, that Schneider
might be able to temper Charley Galloway s policy that he had greater right to any
government property that was not chained to the ground or under armed guard
than whoever it was issued to.
He was so impressed with Schneider that he almost passed over the question he
had asked Lieutenant Ward, and in fact every other officer newly assigned to VMF-
229. But in the end, he did ask him:
Captain Galloway until recently was a flying sergeant. Is that going to pose any
problems for you?
No, Sir. Not for me, Sir.
Why don t I like that response? What did he say? Not for me ?
Not for you? Is that what you said, Mr. Schneider? Are you suggesting that it
might be a problem for Captain Galloway?
Sir, Schneider said, with a disarming smile, I m a regular. I know that before
Captain Galloway was commissioned, a good deal of thought went into it. I certainly
don t mean to suggest that Captain Galloway is not a first rate squadron command-
er.
But?
Sir, what I m saying, badly I m afraid, is that I really wish I hadn t served with
Captain Galloway when he was an enlisted man.
What bothers me about that? Dawkins wondered, and then he understood: You
didn t serve with Charley Galloway, Lieutenant, with him on your wing, or vice versa. He
was your IP. By definition, IPs are superior to their students. I m getting the idea, you
presumptuous puppy, that you think an officer of suitable grade should have been assigned
to instruct an officer and a gentleman and an Annapolis graduate such as yourself.
Because you will always think of him as a sergeant, you mean?
Battleground / 183
No, Sir. Because I think he may remember that I was one of his officers. And
that might be a little awkward for him.
So you re a fucking liar, too, Mr. Schneider? I ll be goddamned! And an arrogant
sonofabitch, too, if you really thought you were going to take me in with that bullshit.
I think I take your point, Dawkins said. Well, let me give it a little thought.
Perhaps we could quietly arrange a transfer for you to one of the other squadrons.
I wouldn t want any special treatment, Sir.
I understand, Dawkins said. We re talking about the good of the service,
aren t we?
I think so, Sir.
What I don t understand is how this asshole fooled Charley Galloway. Maybe there s
something here I m missing. But if Galloway hasn t figured this self-serving prick out, I
will transfer him for the good of the service. Charley has enough on his mind without
worrying about this back-stabbing prick. He ll spend the rest of this fucking war test-flying
Piper Cubs in Kansas.
Well, that seems to be about it, Mr. Schneider, Dawkins said. Unless there s
something on your mind?
I hate&
Let s hear it?
My Uncle Dan is over at Pearl, Sir. On the CINCPAC staff. I wonder if there s
any chance that I could get over to see him for a couple of hours before I begin my
duties here?
Your Uncle Dan? I know a Karl Schneider&
This is my mother s brother, Sir. Daniel Wagam. Admiral Wagam.
You didn t lose any time letting me know that, did you?
Dawkins looked over Schneider s head at the clock on the wall. It was twenty
after three. Certainly, Galloway wasn t going to put Schneider in a cockpit today.
For one thing, it was too late. For another, Schneider was just off a long plane ride
from the States. What Galloway probably had in mind was taking this prick and
the nice kid over to the club so they could meet the other squadron officers. That
could wait.
Why don t you call and see if Admiral Wagam has time for you? Dawkins
said. If he does, we ll get you a ride over there. I m sure the admiral could arrange
to get you back here by 0500 tomorrow, don t you think?
Yes, Sir. I m sure he d be able to do that.
Dawkins pointed to his telephone.
Help yourself, Mr. Schneider.
(Four)
HEADQUARTERS, VMF-229
EWA USMC AIR STATION
OAHU, TERRITORY OF HAWAII
1640 HOURS 7 JULY 1942
When Captain Charles M. Galloway walked into his headquarters, two people were
waiting for him, Lieutenant Jim Ward and PFC Alfred B. Hastings. Both rose to
their feet.
Galloway was starting to wonder where Schneider was when he noticed that
PFC Hastings was holding something in his hand. It was a piece of cardboard, a
laundry shirt stiffener, on which he had drawn a rather nicely done skull and
184 / W. E. B. Griffin
crossbones, the international symbol of danger; an oak leaf, the insignia of majors
and lieutenant colonels; and an arrow pointing to Galloway s office.
Stand at ease, Galloway said sternly. He smiled at Ward, winked at PFC
Hastings, and walked into his office.
Good afternoon, Sir, he said.
Lieutenant Colonel Clyde W. Dawkins was sitting in Charley s chair with his
feet on Charley s desk. You look like shit, Charley, he replied. How many hours
were you up today?
Six, I guess. Maybe a little more.
Well, cut it down, Dawkins said. I don t want to find myself writing pilot
fatigue as the probable cause of your fatal accident.
Aye, aye, Sir.
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